


It's Not That Much of a Secret

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Elyan, Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Protective Percival, Protective Sir Leon, They love him, all the knights will die for Merlin, protective Lancelot, they're both idiots okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Every knight who's spent five minutes around Merlin and Arthur knows the secret.They also know these two are one hell of a blind spot for the other. They'll be here to support them while they figure it out.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 49
Kudos: 1835
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms, one hole shy of perfection





	It's Not That Much of a Secret

**Author's Note:**

> I don't see enough of the knights taking care of Merlin and god knows he needs some friend so I wrote him some.

Fandom: Merlin (BBC)

Prompt: “I might have slept with your robe while you were gone.”

* * *

Leon knows.

He didn’t get to where he is by not being observant, and he certainly didn’t get there by being stupid.

So when Merlin survives drinking a poison that is incurable and is always just out of reach of whatever bandits try and swipe at him, he starts paying a little more attention to the gangly boy trotting around after the prince. So he sees the branches move out of nowhere to trip their attackers and the strangely focused look on the servant’s face. When he starts paying very close attention, he sees the ring of gold around Merlin’s eyes.

He knows he’s no match for a sorcerer on his own.

He knows if he tells, a sorcerer would kill him.

So he waits. Watches.

Part of him is grudgingly respectful. Sweet, gangly, clumsy Merlin? A sorcerer? There is nothing in the King’s description of a sorcerer that lines up with Merlin who still jumps when a door shuts too loudly. It’s quite the illusionary feat. The other part of him is wary, sticking close to his liege in preparation for the worst.

But nothing happens. If anything, it gets better.

The prince is less likely to torment a servant for his own amusement, saying ‘thank you’ and complimenting Leon on his footwork when they spar. He speaks up against his father when the mighty fist of Uther Pendragon threatens to crush the common people under its weight. The castle seems a little lighter, and there is Merlin, with no regard for tradition, snapping back at the prince with no hesitation.

He keeps watching.

Most of the magic that Merlin uses in a fight is to save the prince. Then Leon’s cape gets caught in brambles and he can’t turn fast enough to block the bandit’s sword. He blinks and the bandit is flying backward, pushed by an invisible force. Glancing around, he sees Merlin peeking out from behind a tree, already scanning for the next attack.

The oblivious fool doesn’t even realize Leon’s staring at him.

Merlin is a sorcerer, Leon thinks when they return, and all he’s done in Camelot is save the life of the prince numerous times, look after the other servants, and get the prince to start behaving like an adult.

If this is evil, Leon’s not sure what to make of it.

By the time Lady Katrina comes to Camelot, Leon’s sure Merlin’s not here for his own gain. The man wouldn’t steal a royal seal if it was pressed into his hands, and certainly not from someone he’s barely met. He’s not surprised when Merlin reappears when the troll is defeated, back at the prince’s heels. He notices that when Merlin isn’t there, the prince still looks over his shoulder for him. He’s more easily irritated. He doesn’t look nearly as polished as he normally does, there’s a tense in his shoulders that appears.

Then the Witchfinder comes and for the first time, Leon is afraid for Merlin. Once he knows what to look for, he can’t stop seeing Merlin’s magic. It’s a wonder no one else has noticed it, least of all the prince. The boy isn’t subtle about his magic and he uses it constantly. But he uses it to make sure the prince isn’t about to run into a sword, to knock the bandit out just before they skewer Leon in the back. Merlin isn’t the evil sorcerer the King would have him believe exists.

Merlin is the servant who has more power than his liege but chooses to hide it, all the better to protect.

For all the power being a knight of Camelot affords him, Leon’s hands are tied. He watches helplessly as the Witchfinder cuts a path through the heart of Camelot, almost burning Gaius and driving Merlin away. His chest aches when he sees Arthur hide behind that horrible princely armor, pushing all of his companions away when Merlin is taken from him.

Then Merlin comes back and everything fixes. The Witchfinder dies, Gaius is set free, and Arthur relaxes again, back to bantering with his servant.

He doesn’t care Merlin has magic. He cares that Merlin may be the first friend Arthur’s ever had and that makes Camelot all the better.

So if he sees Arthur staring after Merlin with the same look in his eyes as the girls from the square, he keeps it to himself. And if Leon always looks around to make sure Merlin’s alright too, well, he’s just looking out for his prince’s interests.

* * *

Elyan knows.

Gwen isn’t shy about talking about her life or her work, especially when they’re huddled around the forge, working on a new breastplate or a pair of gauntlets. He knows more about Morgana’s dressing habits than he’d like to, and he knows when there’s a feast before anyone else because Gwen will come home smelling like cinnamon. So when Gwen mentions the prince has a new servant, Elyan is the first to know that he’s an ordinary man but he’s strange. Not in a bad way, just he’s strange.

Teasing your sister is in the brotherly handbook.

When he becomes a knight, naturally he looks to the older ones for guidance. Learning with the prince and some of the long-serving knights is great for footwork and handling a sword, but it’s one of those knights that teaches him the most.

Sir Leon is known as one of the greatest knights in the land and he’s humble enough to try and encourage the rest of them to become the same. Elyan pays attention to everything the man does, trying to combine his own set of skills to make himself a great knight. Gwen still comes to talk to him every evening she can, which means occasionally she’ll walk in on them talking at length about something or other.

Servants have the best gossip and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Sir Leon isn’t as prone to gossip as some of the other knights, but he does tell a good story. Listening to tales of bandits, of trolls, of grand feasts is entertaining, but it’s Gwen’s little comments that send him rolling on the floor. He laughs at the ridiculousness of it. Merlin? A sorcerer? The boy can hardly find his own head sometimes, always stumbling after Arthur and occasionally spouting some wisdom that smacks the prince over the head a little bit.

Sir Leon simply smiles and tells him to watch the next time they get attacked by bandits.

Yeah, Elyan knows enough to know branches and spears don’t fly through the air on their own.

Gwen’s a smart woman and he trusts her judgements. If she says Merlin’s not a threat, he’s not a threat. If Sir Leon’s been around for as long as he has and goes so far as to _commend_ Merlin, well, Elyan’s not about to tell him any different.

And hey, Arthur’s made a common man a knight of Camelot. Merlin’s doing something right.

He is going to try and get Merlin to wear some armor, though. The man may be a sorcerer but that’s not gonna help him if he trips over a sword while he’s carrying it.

* * *

Percival knows.

Any two men who have a preference for who sleeps on what side of the other have been through hell together and come out singing. It’s natural for two knights to get closer instinctively during slumber but when they wake up they roll away, jokingly punching the other on the arm and trying to make sure no one else saw them.

Arthur and Merlin do no such thing.

The first time Lancelot brought him to Camelot Percival was sure Merlin was someone the prince was escorting to some destination, not his servant. Certainly not his servant. He knows enough about the customs of nobles to know a prince doesn’t ride with his servant on a quest, and if he does, he puts him in armor.

Merlin wears no armor and is a more common figure on rides than even Sir Leon. Apparently Arthur goes everywhere with him.

Percival grew up somewhere where companionship between two men is as common as companionship between a man and a woman, even if the former isn’t always treated the same way. So he’s a tad surprised when the other knights insist that Merlin is just Arthur’s servant. He’s less surprised when, later, when the prince is off doing something else, they all mutter that the two of them are more than that.

He doesn’t mind. Who is he to judge?

He goes to find Lancelot, to ask him what they’re planning on riding for in the morning, hearing his voice over the next hill. He pauses when he hears Merlin’s voice too.

What he hears makes his hand clench around the pommel of his sword.

They’re speaking of magic.

Merlin has magic.

He doesn’t believe in the strict regime Uther created, but he is wary of sorcerers. He isn’t wary of Lancelot, he knows the man too well, but he’s wary of Lancelot’s trust in Merlin.

Then Lancelot comes over the hill and sees him with his hand on his sword. Percival whips his hand away but it’s too late, Lancelot knows he heard. He opens his mouth to defend himself but Lancelot simply places a hand on his shoulder and walks him back to camp.

There, seated with the rest of the knights, they tell stories of this gangly little boy that waltzed right into the heart of Camelot and saved lives, taught the prince the value of a servant, and how one by one he changes their minds about magic.

Percival doesn’t need much convincing. After all, he’s seen how Arthur looks at his servant when he thinks no one else is watching and he knows how Merlin always rides right next to him.

When Arthur isn’t around, the knights swap stories about the spear that skewered the bandit from twenty feet away and how Merlin clobbered one of them over the head with his own axe.

* * *

Gwaine knows.

Come on, some little man doesn’t say ‘Strength, Courage, and Magic’ to him, Arthur, and Merlin when he’s obviously strength and Arthur’s obviously courage and _not_ figure it out. If he’s honest, that’s the one the cinches it but he’s known for ages.

Merlin isn’t that subtle and god knows Arthur’s that oblivious.

He trusts Merlin. So he’s content to sit back and wait, scowling at Princess when he just claps Merlin on the shoulder. Merlin will tell him when he’s ready. When he does, he’s all nervous and stuttery and Gwaine’s almost about to laugh at Merlin’s fear that he’s going to what, run him through? He holds himself back and thanks Merlin for trusting him, melting at the relieved smile that spreads across Merlin’s face.

That isn’t the big secret, though. Everyone knows that. Come on, the boy used magic in front of Uther freaking Pendragon, he wasn’t that concerned about hiding it.

No, the big secret is much, much better.

He plays a game with the other knights sometimes when they’re all huddled around the fire and Princess is off somewhere with Merlin, or in the tavern with tankards of ale. He’ll repeat something he’s heard Arthur say and the others have to guess if he’s said it to Gwen or Merlin. It’s a fantastic way to get drunk. Sometimes Leon or Lancelot will offer their own and gods Princess has it bad.

Merlin’s not much better, but he makes Gwaine sadder because the boy thinks that because Arthur’s interested in Gwen, he’s not interested in Merlin.

Far from it.

So he flirts, smiles, teases, does anything he can to take Merlin’s mind off of it. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in the man at all, but he knows Merlin’s heart belongs to Arthur. And hey, if all of this helps Princess get his head out of his royal behind, all the better.

* * *

Lancelot knows.

The magic isn’t even at the front of his mind anymore, it’s just part of Merlin. And he wouldn’t change Merlin for the world.

The man has so much weight on his shoulders; hiding magic in the heart of Camelot, dodging assassins to save the prince’s life, and trying frantically to keep his head above water long enough to do the right thing. Lancelot wonders sometimes how much of the weight is Merlin’s own creation and how much is placed there by others.

Merlin’s got enough power on his own to take on the entire world for Arthur, he doesn’t need any protection. Power can only do so much, though, and Lancelot would be lying to himself if he thought Merlin wasn’t shaking under the weight sometimes.

So he takes it upon himself to take better care of Merlin. He asks him when he’s eaten last, had a drink, allowed himself to sit still for a moment. He gets the other knights to help him with taking care of the horses when they make camp, rope him into their talks by the fire to take his mind off things.

When Merlin is quiet at night he takes him away from the huddle of the others somewhere safe and pleads with Merlin to talk. About something, about anything. Lancelot takes Merlin’s secrets, confessions, and fears and buries them in his own chest. He knows the others would do the same if Merlin let them, they would never betray his confidences. But Merlin doesn’t seem to know that, although he prods them to do so. So Lancelot does his best.

He and Gwaine team up most of the time, Gwaine loudly blustering and being a more extreme version of his brash self to send them into laughter, flirting brazenly with Merlin to see him smile and to watch Arthur’s face turn red. Lancelot helps more quietly, offering unwavering friendship that often has Arthur ordering Merlin back to his side. The other knights watch on in amusement, wondering what it’ll take for Arthur to finally say something.

They all confronted Merlin a little while ago, told him how much they cared and how much it hurt to see him alone like this all the time. He blushed and stammered but thanked them for their kindness. Leon still ruffles his hair affectionately. Percival carries the bulk of the armor that would make Merlin have to do multiple trips instead of one. Gwaine turns any teasing that hits a little too close away from him. Elyan gives him leather tunics and gauntlets that aren’t too cumbersome. Lancelot gives him somewhere to cry where Arthur won’t see.

At some point, Lancelot knows, they’re going to have to confront Arthur. Tell him that what he’s doing to their friend isn’t right. He also knows Merlin would be pissed at them so they hold off, waiting impatiently for Arthur to realize what he has.

They’re all in the council chamber one day after a particularly difficult meeting. Merlin is yelling at Arthur to think about the ramifications of what he’s doing, that the people will suffer, they’ll get hurt, _he’ll_ get hurt and Lancelot’s heart is in his throat, as he knows the rest of the knights’ are, at the raw pain underlying Merlin’s words. But Arthur, oblivious, foolish Arthur, snaps back that Merlin doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that he doesn’t understand this type of responsibility. Even Leon looks uncomfortable. Arthur sends them all out of the room and it’s not even a question that the knights will follow Merlin.

They find him in Arthur’s chambers, trying to tidy the room a small bit.

“You can go,” Merlin bites through shaky breaths, “I’ll be alright.”

“We know, Merlin,” Elyan says softly, taking Merlin by the shoulder, “but we want to help. That was cruel.”

“If he just—“ Merlin cuts himself off, swiping angrily at his face.

“Come,” Leon calls softly, spreading his arms, “shed your tears.”

The movement shocks Lancelot, but when Merlin fits seamlessly into Leon’s arms it makes sense. Leon’s been here the longest, seen the most. Of course, this isn’t the first time he’s offered Merlin comfort.

“Princess is pissed right now.” Gwaine takes a seat at the table. “You know he doesn’t think right when he’s like that.”

“I _know,_ ” comes the angry mutter from Leon’s shoulder. The ginger knight hushes him lightly, rubbing his back. “I shouldn’t even be reacting like this, it’s not the first time he’s done—this one wasn’t even that bad.”

Percival glances at Elyan. They know it’s been worse. 

“You haven’t exactly had it easier though,” Lancelot murmurs, coming up to Merlin still caught in Leon’s embrace, “have you?”

The black mop of hair shakes back and forth.

“I don’t know about you lot,” Gwaine mutters, “but my patience for this is running out.”

Lancelot looks at Leon. “He’s been getting better, hasn’t he?”

Leon sighs. “Some days he’s conscious of everything, ready to repeal the laws against magic, fighting for the common people with every word. And sometimes…”

He indicates Merlin in his arms.

Merlin draws away, still sniffling a little. When he looks around at them, he smiles and it’s a little better.

“Thank you,” he says, “for…that.”

“Anytime,” Gwaine announces, clapping Merlin on the shoulder. “You want us to kick Princess’ ass for you, you let us know.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ve got more patience than I do.”

“What, like that’s hard?”

“Good to see you’re feeling better.”

They each give Merlin another pat and leave him to his chores. Lancelot hangs behind a second longer, noticing the slouch in Merlin’s shoulders and how his head still hangs low.

“Why don’t you rest a moment,” he suggests, taking the boot out of Merlin’s hands, “you’re exhausted.”

It doesn’t take much coaxing to get Merlin to agree and Lancelot ducks out of the room as Merlin curls up in Arthur’s bed. It’s the least he can do.

None of them notices the absence of Merlin’s neck kerchief.

* * *

Arthur glances down at the floor. In his haste to hurry everyone out of the chamber, he hadn’t noticed Merlin’s ridiculous neck kerchief fall off. Snatching it up, he starts after his servant, keen to return it before Merlin has a chance to get too far away and before he gets any angrier.

Honestly, he hadn’t meant to snap at Merlin like that. He hadn’t. Twisting the fabric between his fingers, he worries his lip as he tries to think of an appropriate way to apologize. Something that won’t make Merlin scoff and turn away, nor something to make him gloat.

He hasn’t thought of anything by the time he reaches his chambers, so he pushes open the door, ready to just pass the garment over.

What he finds instead is Merlin turning towards him, hiding something behind his back with a guilty expression on his face. He frowns, taking a step closer only to freeze.

“You’ve—you’ve been crying.”

“It’s fine.”

No, not with that tone of voice it’s not. Arthur knows better than to push again, though, what with how Merlin’s fist clenches at his side. He can’t help crossing to his servant, lifting his hand to try and wipe Merlin’s face clean. Merlin flinches. Hard.

“Don’t hit me.”

“Merlin!” Arthur’s mouth drops open. “I would never hit you for crying, what on earth makes you think I would?”

He can’t hear Merlin’s reply, too busy with his own eyes filling with tears. Merlin thought—he _honestly_ thought Arthur would hit him for crying?

Arthur sniffs, still looking at Merlin through his own tears, reaching out a trembling hand with the neck kerchief to slowly, ever so slowly, tie it back in place. Merlin doesn’t move, eyes widening, only to catch Arthur’s hand when he tries to move away.

“Wait, I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t actually think you were going to hit me.”

“Okay,” Arthur replies dumbly, still shaken by his discovery of a tear-stained Merlin in his chambers. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that.”

“Okay.”

They stand there for a moment, Arthur still crying silently and Merlin fiddling with whatever he has behind his back. Arthur glances down to see his nightshirt in Merlin’s hand.

“Wh…what’s wrong with my shirt?”

Merlin looks down in alarm, having seemingly forgotten he was holding it. “I, um,” he mumbles, cheeks turning red, “I might have slept with your robe while you were gone.”

“Oh.” Merlin seems to take this as disapproval and tries to go.

And there’s nothing else for Arthur to do but clutch at the fabric of Merlin’s own tunic, holding him closer. He can’t lose Merlin. He can’t lose this wonderful, foolish, fascinating man. A man who weeps over butterflies and unicorns and curls up in Arthur’s chambers, who makes Arthur feel so irrevocably safe. His presence is an anchor now and Arthur doesn’t know what to do if Merlin tries to leave. Merlin stays, held by Arthur’s hand, looking quizzically at him.

Arthur curses softly and fits his lips clumsily to Merlin’s.

Merlin stiffens and Arthur panics but then he hears the nightshirt slide to the floor and Merlin’s hands are on his shoulders, holding him close. They fit together perfectly.

Neither of them are going anywhere.

* * *

“So Princess knows Merlin loves him now?”

“Better yet, he knows _he_ loves Merlin now.”

“Has he figured out the magic yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What do you think he will do?”

“You’ve seen the way he looks at Merlin, you think him having magic will change that?”

“Repealing the magic ban, here we come.”

“If the two of them come out of that room in the next year.”

“Gwaine!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


End file.
